


The Sorting of Atlas Potter

by chamsie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-05 03:45:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12182271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamsie/pseuds/chamsie
Summary: Lord Voldemort has five children, four of whom are not in House Slytherin.Their youngest is yet to be sorted; all of Voldemort's hopes ride upon Atlas' shoulders.  Can the boy live up to his father's dreams?





	The Sorting of Atlas Potter

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I'm not sure if I'll regret posting this yet, but let's have at it shall we? It's a little premature, but I'd rather not sit on it indefinitely like I do most things.

It’d been two years since their last Sorting and Tom had started up the prayers once more.

 

Lord Voldemort would of course never stoop so low as to call his whispered pleas - _requests, Harry_ \- prayers, but they sure sounded like prayers to Harry’s ears.

 

“Face it, Tom,” Harry said jovially as he balanced Ginny’s youngest on his hip. She’d called in a favour last minute, so Harry was on babysitting duty; he never could deny her if it was in his capabilities.  Several more hours and Harry could hand the little red head back to her mother. “We’ve raised a brood of vicious Hufflepuffs.”

 

“And one Ravenclaw,” chimed in Elias from the table.

 

Harry grinned at his second youngest.  “Yes, and one Ravenclaw.”

 

Elias beamed back at him, all teeth, and Ginny’s babe burbled in agreement before smacking Harry on the shoulder. He obligingly shifted her to his other side and bounced her as he turned back to prepping her bottle.

 

“You cannot predict the future, Harry,” Voldemort replied, voice smooth and eyes cool.  He took a sip of his tea and the image would have been imposing if not for their dog snuffling by his feet and Nagini slithering up his chair to drape like an obscenely long fat cat across his shoulders.  

 

Not for the first time, Harry was struck by a sense of bemusement at the life he now led.  Who would have thought it?  Harry Potter and Voldemort happily married with a house, children, and pets nearly two decades after the official end of the war.  

 

“Atlas is _my_ son,” Voldemort practically hissed.  “He would flourish in Slytherin.”  

 

Harry looked at him unimpressed.  They’d been over this many times already.  “He’s my son as well,” Harry reminded.  “And you’ll recall that none of our children are in Gryffindor either.”  

 

Lily, Nike, James, Elias, and Atlas.  All but the littlest had been sorted, and each time had born unexpected results.  Harry had pegged their firstborn Lily, with her headstrong manner and ability to find trouble, as a through and through Gryffindor, but her first letter home had nervously declared the House of the Badger to be where she belonged.  Voldemort had been spitting with fury and it’d taken three weeks of the Dark Lord sleeping at Malfoy Manor before he’d calmed enough to listen to reason.  

 

Next year was round two.  They’d _both_ thought Nike would end up in Slytherin, but she’d surprised everyone by joining her sister in Hufflepuff.  Ron had a great big guffaw about it.  The Dark Lord’s children in Hufflepuff!  Tom had hexed him good, and Harry would have protested if Tom hadn’t allowed him the same courtesy for Draco.  Bloody Malfoy had laughed up a storm until Harry got at him.  

 

Third child James, according to eyewitness accounts, had worn the Hat for but a second before ‘ _Hufflepuff!’_ was being roared out to those in the Great Hall.  Voldemort shouldn’t have been surprised, but the man still sulked for a good month before Harry walloped him in the head.  

 

By the time Elias was to begin Hogwarts, Voldemort’s prayers were louder than ever and Harry had weakly placed his usual bet on Gryffindor, fully convinced his son would follow in the footsteps of his siblings.  They were already at three of five for Hufflepuff.  Harry should have known better.  Their children couldn’t live without going against expectation, and Elias defied all expectation when he wound up in Ravenclaw.  The lone anomaly in their brood of badgers.  

 

Voldemort narrowed his crimson eyes ready to launch into another speech about honour and legacy, but Harry completely ignored him, pointedly turning to feed Ginny’s baby instead.  He was tired of having this argument, so they simply would not have it this time. Elias blinked awkwardly between them before opting to hide in his book, and Voldemort hissed with irritation, but gave in to Harry because, to be honest, he was tired of the argument as well.

* * *

 

Nineteen years later and Platform 9&¾ was still as lively as it had always been for Harry Potter. Livelier perhaps. Hogwarts’ student populace had grown exponentially after Voldemort's truce and the magically hidden platform rang with the sound of families and people. Far more than Harry could remember from his first year.

 

The Potter-Riddles arrived via apparition, landing down at the nearest travel point before walking over together.  It was somewhat plebeian for the Lord Voldemort to arrive in such a manner, but Harry refused to be pretentious.  Tom was embarrassing enough without the added theatrics.  

 

“Remember, Nike, you’re the eldest this year, so please look after your siblings.” Harry reminded his second eldest as he herded them toward a corner with more space, the crowd parting with ease for the famous family. Their clan was one short as Lily was unable to make it back for the send off having just begun her apprenticeship in Ethiopia, but four children and two adults still made for a large group. They needed all the space they could get.  Said child gave him a fond, if exasperated, look.

 

“Got it, Mum.” Nike grinned back.  “You don’t have to keep reminding.”

 

Harry was ‘Mum’ to his children because early in their relationship (if it could even have been called that at the time), Voldemort had enforced the title to assert his dominance.  Harry of course refused it, had fought against the idea of it wretchedly. It had taken a very long time and a lot of fighting (verbal and physical) for Harry to come to terms with it, but he accepted the title now. It was long ingrained in his children, and most importantly, it had ceased to be a power play on Voldemort's part.  Harry being Mum and Voldemort being Dad was a simple facet of their lives, a mark Voldemort had left upon Harry, but no longer a point of contention because Harry had left his own marks as well.  Nineteen years was a long time to be together without compromise being reached.

 

“Don’t forget I’ll be around too,” said James.

 

Harry sighed and clapped his son on the shoulder. “Of course I haven’t, Jamey, but you have prefect duties on top of OWL prep. _No_ , don’t tell me it’s no harder than last year.  I lived my own fifth year with Ron and Hermione as prefects. I _know_ it’ll be quite a lot. ” He glanced meaningfully at the both of them. “I’m aware you’ll all look after each other, but it’s At’s first year and your father’s already worrying.”

 

Nike grinned and hugged Harry round the shoulders, having to bend slightly to accomplish so. _Merlin_ , did children grow quickly! It felt like yesterday when she was still running 'round by his knees.  “It’ll be fine, Mum. Even without Lily, there are three other Potters at Hogwarts with Atlas and we’ve got all them Weasleys to keep us company too,” she said. “In fact, I think I see Roxie and Molly.  I’m going to go over.”  

 

She quickly bade them farewell, kissing both Harry and Voldemort on the cheeks, before running off toward her Weasley cousins.  

 

Without Nike, it was only the men of the Potter-Riddle bunch left. James and Harry shared a look before turning to observe Voldemort fussing over Atlas and the boy’s pet snake. Not to say that he was fussing very noticeably, but those who knew him well would spot the way he stood closer than usual to his youngest.  

 

Elias popped up beside Harry, taking Nike’s vacated spot.  “Dad’s _really_ fussing isn’t he? He’s said at least a paragraph to Atty already.”

 

Harry chuckled at that and ruffled the boy's hair. “Don’t let Dad hear. You know how he is with Atlas.”

 

Atlas, being the baby of the family, held a special place in the Dark Lord’s heart despite Voldemort's statements to the contrary.  His siblings knew it, Harry knew it, but no one minded very much as they all doted on the boy.  

 

Having spoken to Nike and James already, Harry looked down at Elias and gave him the customary back-to-school warning.  “It's your third year, but no Whomping Willow and no Chamber of Secrets, alright?”

 

“What if I bring Jamesy or Nike?”

 

Harry shook his head. “No. They're still dangerous and your father and I prefer if we were with you.”

 

Elias whined at the response, but his smile was good-natured as he hugged Harry round the middle.  “Maybe this summer?”  

 

“Maybe,” Harry replied as he planted a kiss on his son's head.  “Now let me go save your brother.  He’s starting to look peaky.”  

 

James and Elias laughed aloud at that, and Elias stepped back to allow Harry movement.  He hadn’t been kidding when he said Atlas was looking peaky.  Voldemort was still talking at the poor child, so Harry quickly stalked over to his husband and their youngest.  Closer now, he could hear how Voldemort’s smooth baritone hardly rose even as he spouted off various reminders. “ - remember your reputation.  As an heir of Slytherin, you will have the scrutiny of the public upon you.  You will do us proud, Atlas.  I expect no less from my kin - “

 

“Don’t listen to your father,” Harry chided, cutting off Tom through what was likely an already impressively long tirade for the Dark Lord.  “He’s being a great sap about it. Just have fun, alright?”  

 

 _“Harry_ ,” Voldemort bit out, clearly annoyed by the interruption.  

 

 _“Tom_ ,” Harry drawled back.  “Stop scaring Atlas and go remember the other children you have.”  He gave the man a gentle shove. Voldemort’s eyes narrowed at him, but he eventually acquiesced and headed toward James and Elias, who had migrated a ways over to stand nearer the water fountains. Clever, his boys. They knew Harry wanted a moment alone with Atlas.

 

“I hope your father didn’t scare you too much. No one's honour is on the line.”

 

His son giggled, but it warbled with nerves and his smile soon slipped away. Harry waited patiently until Atlas burst out anxiously, voice tremulous, “What if I’m not in Slytherin? Dad wants me in Slytherin.”

 

Harry showed no surprise at the admission, and Atlas suddenly felt incredibly young in the face of his wisdom.  "That hardly means anything; he wanted all of you in Slytherin."  He said dryly before crouching down near Atlas.  He leaned in close and spoke, words private and sincere.   “Did you know that I was almost in Slytherin?” Harry asked.

 

Atlas shook his head, wide-eyed. Harry Potter? In Slytherin? The idea was so incongruous with the image of his mum that he had. Only Voldemort being in Gryffindor could have possibly been more shocking.

 

“I asked for Gryffindor, and there I was placed.” Harry continued, “Your House does not define you; you define your House.  I have known cowardly Gryffindors and brave Slytherins; gullible Ravenclaws and traitorous Hufflepuffs. It is _you_ who is master of your fate. Do not let your father scare you; enjoy Hogwarts.”

 

Atlas turned the advice over in his mind. Master of his own fate… He was still nervous, but the feeling had become an uneasy roiling in his gut rather than an all-consuming, cresting wave. “Thanks, Mum.”

 

Harry smiled brightly at him and held his arms open.  “Come then, goodbye hug,”

 

“Aren’t I too old for that?”

 

Harry frowned.  “It's never bothered you before.”

 

“But it's my first year and Scorpius is looking over too!” Atlas cried, cheeks flushing.  He could see the blond glancing at him from behind Mrs. Malfoy.

 

“At least hug your father.”

 

When Atlas continued to look embarrassed, Harry spoke in an undertone such that only Atlas could hear.  “You know how much you mean to me and your father. You won’t be seeing us for the next four months.”  He eyed his son and the boy shrank in shame.  In his bid to keep up appearance, Atlas had forgotten the number one unspoken rule: family first.  All the Potter siblings knew this and honoured it fiercely.  They had not been given all the gritty details per say, but they knew Mum and Dad were orphans. It wasn’t merely cosmic justice that so many of them were in Hufflepuff; they were a viciously loyal lot and they took care of their own.

 

“Sorry, Mum,” Atlas mumbled. He stopped struggling and immediately fell into a tight hug with Harry. Even returned the kiss Harry placed upon  his brow with one of his own, no complaints.

 

Harry smiled proudly and Atlas barely stopped from puffing up at the positive attention. “There is no shame in love and its displays.  Now go say farewell to your father before the train leaves.  He’s worrying.”

 

If he'd been listening, Voldemort would have vehemently disputed the claim.  As it was, Atlas had merely to lean around his mum to see that the Dark Lord 'sulking’, for lack of a better term, as he hissed sharp Parseltongue reminders at James and Elias.  It was discernible from his posture.

 

The train whistled and Harry perked up at that. “You’d best go now. The train leaves soon.”

 

Atlas scampered over to his father.  He watched James and Elias say goodbye before they headed off with their trolleys, and then it was him and Voldemort.  Remembering Harry's words, he gave the Dark Lord a brief hug, the action allowable only because it was from him.

 

Voldemort’s crimson gaze weighed heavy on his son. “Stay sharp, child. Remember your siblings if the need arises.”

 

 _“Bye, Daddy,”_ Atlas hissed.

 

His father hissed back, more of a hum than any Parseltongue words, before shooing him to the train.

 

When the train finally pulled away, Atlas watched the platform, following the diminishing shapes of his parents until they could no longer be seen and then continued staring some more after that.

* * *

 

“Creevy, Laslow.”  Professor Longbottom read out from the parchment in his hands.

 

Lined up near the back, Atlas allowed himself to glance around the Great Hall in awe. He had of course seen the castle before, but never on a feast night. The few snatches he’d seen had always been in passing when Mum was called because of an emergency (like the time Lily got in a duel with Arren Nott or when Teddy fell down three flights of stairs).  Maybe he’d ask Mum about enchanting his bedroom ceiling to match the sky too.

 

“Malfoy, Scorpius.”

 

Oh, no matter how much Mum had said Father would love him regardless of his house, he felt cold dread at how he’d be received if he were to end up in Hufflepuff or Gryffindor.  Father was a proud man and Atlas knew it was one of his dearest wishes to see even just one of his children in the House of Snakes.  He loved his father, and he wanted to make him proud.  

 

“Potter, Atlas.”

 

It was time. Atlas gave a nervous exhale and trekked up to the stool. Along the way, he caught the eyes of his siblings: Nike and James grinning encouragingly from Hufflepuff and Elias waving enthusiastically from Ravenclaw. A lot of his Weasley cousins were cheering for him from the Gryffindor table and Uncle Neville, despite being Professor Longbottom at the moment, was beaming at him up at the front.  

 

He distantly wished Lily or Mum were here.  Both had the ability to ease his worries with their mere presence.  

 

The Hat was gently placed upon his head, nearly swallowing him whole. Headmistress McGonagall, watching from the head of the staff table, had a sudden sense of deja vu for Atlas looked so very  much like Harry Potter as he sat trembling beneath the Sorting Hat’s worn fabric.   

 

 _My, my,_ chimed a velvet voice in Atlas’ mind.  What a peculiar sensation, not quite like hearing with one’s ears, but not quite like thinking either.   _Another Potter-Riddle brat.  Usually it is the Weasleys who come to me in these numbers._

 

 _Well,_ Atlas answered back, _we’re practically Weasleys at this point. Some would even say we_ are _Weasleys._

 

The Hat chuckled, and Atlas smiled hesitantly.

 

 _Let us get on with it. You are an earnest one,_ the Hat commented.  _Like your brother - Elias if I recall.  I see loyalty and love; all you children of Potter have big hearts.  A sharp mind and cunning edge, but also recklessness. You quite like adventure, don’t you?_

 

Atlas giggled nervously at that.  Mum _was_ always yelling at him…

 

_You’d do quite well in Gryffindor, you know?_

 

There it was.  The statement made Atlas’ heart thump.  He didn’t particularly mind any of the Houses, but he couldn’t quite erase the image of his father’s face, smooth and unfeeling but for the tense expectation in his crimson eyes.  

 

_Not Gryffindor?_

 

 _I don’t know,_ Atlas thought to the Hat. _I don’t want to disappoint anyone._

 

The Hat hummed sympathetically.   _One’s actions are what disappoint,_ it said.   _Not one’s House._  

 

Mum’s words echoed in his mind.  Brave Slytherins and cowardly Gryffindors…

 

 _Very wise he’s become._  

 

 _Yes_ , Atlas agreed. _Mum really is._

 

The Hat did the equivalent of a mental shake, as if it were drawing itself up.   _With all said and done, it shall have to be -_  

* * *

 

A dozen letters arrived at Grimmauld Place in the morning, all from Hogwarts. Harry could make out the names of his children, Hagrid, Neville, and even a few from his nieces and nephews.

 

He could already guess their topics: the Sorting of Atlas Severus Potter.

 

As it was Atlas who had been Sorted, Harry decided it would he most fitting to read his youngest son’s letter first.

 

Voldemort stumbled into the dining room as Harry was breaking the letter open, dark curls a mess and crimson eyes blinking blearily in the morning light.  The sight of him so un-put-together was rare but endearing, and the Man-Who-Lived bit back a smile lest Tom think he was mocking his appearance.  It’d taken a very long time, after all, before Harry was allowed to see the Dark Lord in such a manner.  

 

“Morning,” Harry greeted as Voldemort took a seat at the table.  

 

The other man quickly scanned the mess of letters spread across the table top and then his eyes shot up to Harry in anticipation.  

 

“What does it say?” Voldemort snapped and that was how Harry knew his husband was just as anxious as he was to find out the verdict.

 

Harry lifted an eyebrow and said, “Let me read it first, dear.”  He turned to the letter in his hands, but as he continued to read, they widened considerably.  He even reread twice, uncertain if his glasses were failing him.

 

“Well?”

 

Harry felt himself gaping.  “I can’t believe it, Tom...He’s in…”

* * *

 

“Gryffindor!!” Uncle Ron roared, pulling Atlas into a hug.  He ruffled the boy’s hair and Atlas squirmed away in laughter.  “I knew at least one of you would do us proud!”

 

The chatter of Platform 9&¾ washed over them, but even that was not enough to drown out the exasperated sniff of Aunt ‘Mione.

 

“Ron!” She scolded. “Don’t say things like that.  All the Houses are brilliant in their own right.”  She turned to face Atlas with a smile.  “Congratulations, Atlas.  Are you happy in Gryffindor?”  

 

Atlas grinned in response. “Yes! The tower feels just like home.”

 

“Of course it would,” Ron said. “Harry used it as inspiration when he was decorating Grimmauld!”

 

He spoke with Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione for a time, asking about Christmas dinner at the Burrow and whether Mum would allow him to stay over for a week until, finally, his parents came over.  Atlas stiffened, his previous easy smile slipping off his face.

 

“Dad,” Atlas greeted. “Mum.”

 

Mum gave him a smile and a hug, which he returned with just a hint more clinginess than usual. Atlas was man enough to admit his fear, and he would take any bit of comfort he could before having to face his father. He could not hug his mum indefinitely though, so he eventually let go, steeling himself as he turned to his father.  

 

He just stopped from grimacing.  Voldemort’s face was as cold and emotionless as he had imagined when he sat under the Hat.  His red eyes gave nothing away and Atlas felt like he was about to scolded terribly.  Or disinherited.  Would Mum even let him be disinherited?

 

“Sorry, Dad,” Atlas said quietly. “At least Mum won fifty galleons?”

 

Dad looked on the verge of yelling for a moment, and Atlas nearly flinched but then his father simply deflated.  It was quite a funny sight.  “Of course you would be as stubborn as the rest.  You always did resemble your mother too much,” said Dad with exasperation  

 

It was perfect, and Atlas finally let go of his worry.  

**Author's Note:**

> I kid you not, my working title was "That One Tomarry Kids AU That Amuses Me". A title suggestion would be nice, if anyone has some.


End file.
